Music Box
by clocks-and-cages
Summary: The year is 1739. Life on St. Lucia is just beginning to bloom. One particular girl stands out - the strange daughter of a wealthy plantation owner. Austin is sure she's just a spoiled brat that will bring in a good ransom, which is exactly what his captain wants, but when he manages to haul her aboard he finds they have more in common than he would have expected. Auslly, Pirate AU
1. Trousseau

(Note: I do not own Austin & Ally. If I did, I would be rich, which I am not. Also, this story is Rated T for violence, suspense, and a bit of sexual suggestion, as it is a pirate story.)

There were two things in particular that Ally couldn't imagine life without - her piano, a grand instrument of the finest quality, and the sea.

Both had been a part of her life for as long as she could remember. There wasn't a day in her life that she could recall when she hadn't sat down to play music, hands hovering over ivory keys as the glittering waves of the ocean inspired the notes that bloomed from her fingertips. Though Ally was born in France, her family had sailed to St. Lucia when she was still very small, so the memories of a childhood in her supposed homeland were hazy at best. Her father often spoke of France, of bustling streets and complex buildings and maybe returning someday, while Ally only half listened. Truthfully, Ally had no desire to go back. St. Lucia was her home. She belonged there, with the lush vegetation and long white beaches that stretched out just a short walk away from her father's estate. She loved the warm breezes that carried the salty smell of the oceans, the colorful birds that made their homes in trees near her bedroom window, and the greater amount of freedom she was allowed, though she often kept that last thought to herself.

The truth of it, however, was rearing its ugly head as her friend's upcoming wedding drew nearer. It was a clear reminder that, had Ally's family stayed in France, she would already be married with a child on the way rather than still living comfortably with her father on his estate. The wedding seemed to be a reminder for everyone, though, that it was high time she found a suitable husband as well. Everyone on St. Lucia talked, and the event was only fueling the fire. Ally's friend, a petite and beautiful young girl named Patricia (though Ally preferred to call her Trish), matched Ally's age. They'd been best friends for as long as Ally could remember. There were, of course, other young women on the island who she could have befriended, but she preferred Trish's fresh and confident attitude over their shallow, gossiping personalities. She heard what they said despite what they thought, pretending not to be listening when they glanced in her direction and then gathered their heads together and twittered on and on about matters that truly had nothing to do with them. _Poor thing - soon she'll be too old, and no one good will want her. A bit skinny, isn't she? No wonder she isn't married yet. I hear her father's tried without any luck. _An utter lie, of course, or else a horrible rumor. Ally's father was so busy with the plantation that she doubted he had even thought about her own personal affairs, which had suited her just fine until recently. After Trish's engagement, though, despair had set in as she wondered if maybe the busybodies were right and she really wouldn't be able to find a decent suitor.

The idea of looking through Trish's trousseau the day before the wedding only made her feel worse about the whole matter, but she went to her friend's house anyway, loyal to her to the ends of the earth. The bride-to-be was practically giddy, grinning from ear to ear as she through back the dusty lid of her cedar chest, a beautiful thing imported from England. Trish was Spanish, a rarity on St. Lucia, but when Ally had told her about the French tradition she had been so enthusiastic that she begged her parents for weeks before they finally relented. (She had been only seven at the time, but already she was very pushy.) Folded into the cheap cotton Ally could see lengths of lace, satin, and jewelry that glittered in the morning sunlight that spilled through the window into the room. When they were younger they would sometimes play dress-up with the items in the chest, but they had long since outgrown such childhood fancies, and Ally had forgotten about many of the older treasures in the chest. Looking through it she felt old memories come to life, and she might have actually started enjoying herself if it hadn't been for the fact that the chest was soon to be leaving to a different home along with her friend, and if she didn't marry soon she could very well be left behind.

"A part of me never thought it would happen," Trish admitted, turning to face Ally and looking almost as if she was going to start bouncing up and down in excitement. "Nonsense, of course. Every woman has to marry eventually."

Ally made a small, noncommittal sound that Trish immediately seemed to accept as agreement. Normally the petite girl was quick to spot when something was on Ally's mind, but she had quickly become caught up in her own anticipation. Ally couldn't blame her - it was _she_ that should be more excited, and happy for her friend. She plastered on a convincing smile and watched as Trish eager plunged in, though her mind wandered. Her father was simply waiting for the opportunity to come. He was a smart man - surely he thought perhaps he could engage her to a wealthy trader that stopped by on the island, who could whisk her away to an even more exotic place. _(It was a far-fetched dream and she knew it, but she refused to acknowledge it as foolish.)_

Soon enough, though, Trish's excitement began to wear off on Ally and she became genuinely entertained by looking through the many things her friend had collected and trying to recall the exact days she had found them. The majority of the jewelry had been purchased from traders when the came to St. Lucia from other islands or even Europe, bringing in new items, glittering gems of all different hues, and tales of great seafaring adventures. Trish loved to go shop when the traders were in town and Ally was more than happy to accompany her, though she spent less time shopping and more time listening to the stories or admiring the great ships bobbing in the bay. It was true that she was interested in odd things: Music, the beach, ships. Most girls found music boring, thought the sand was hot and irritating, and complained the ships only brought rowdy sailors. But Ally found herself drawn to all three, which was yet another reason why Trish was really her only good friend on the island. Anyone else would see her as strange. When she did shop, it wasn't even for jewelry, but for a good adventure book, resulting in her own trousseau being plain and scarce in comparison to most. Indeed, many of the items in it had been given to her by Trish or inherited from distant relatives. She hardly ever looked in it anymore - the presence of the chest had become almost torturous, in a way, for most girls her age had already used hers. It made her feel like a failure, somehow.

Trish pulled out a thin silver chain necklace, holding it up so it shimmered in the light. "My dress is scarlet. Does silver go with scarlet?"

Ally considered. "Gold might be better."

Trish stared at it a moment longer before nodding and diving back in. She spared Ally a quick glance, though, smiling. "You should play something for us on the piano at the celebrations tomorrow. Your songs are so lovely."

Ally's mouth dropped open slightly. "A woman? Playing in public? That's hardly proper, Trish. I wouldn't dare."

Trish made a sound of exasperation, though whether it was at her or her own inability to find a gold necklace, Ally was unsure. "Honestly, Ally, do you build your entire life around propriety? You're the best pianist on St. Lucia, regardless of the fact that you're a woman. Any audience would be lucky to hear you."

Ally remained silent, pretending to have suddenly become very interested in the pattern on the piece of lace she held. Perhaps Trish was right. And yet, before she had died, Ally's mother had been very strict on who Ally could and couldn't play for. She'd impressed upon her the importance of a woman knowing her place. A woman trying to be a man, she had said, had no place in proper society. As a result Ally felt uncomfortable even just playing for Trish. She couldn't imagine going up in front of an entire audience.

Before she could say so, though, someone cleared their throat. "Ma'am?"

Ally, thoroughly startled, jerked her head up to see her maid Claire lingering timidly in the doorway. Claire was a whisp of a girl with unusual dark hair and pasty skin, shy and usually extremely quiet. She was probably around fifteen years old, but her height and thin limbs made her seem younger, perhaps even twelve. She rarely interrupted Ally for any reason, remaining as a shadow. "Yes, Claire? Is something the matter?"

"I - I'm afraid I don't know, Miss Ally. Your father sent a messenger summoning you back to the estate immediately."

Ally frowned in confusion but didn't question the maid further, instead rising and saying a quick farewell to Trish before following Claire out the door and down the familiar path back to her own home. Glancing past the bushes Ally could spot dark clouds gathering over the horizon, causing a disturbance in the sea. A storm was coming.

Something stirred in Ally. She couldn't quite figure out what - fear? Dread? It was as if the storm was a bad omen of some sort. She shook the feeling quickly. Trish believed in those sort of things, not her. Superstitions were nothing but foolishness. And yet...

No. It was silly. Thoroughly annoyed with herself, Ally gave a small huff, planting a hand on her hat to keep it from blowing away as she quickened her pace in an attempt to beat the rain.

_(only the pure are truly able to fly. the rotten must content themselves with riding the winds.)_

An especially large wave slammed against the _Scarlette,_ causing her to tilt dangerously, but Austin's steps didn't falter. Her had long since adjusted to the rolling of the ship during hard weather, and she had held in far worse than what they were in currently. He stepped around a fellow crew member, bent over scrubbing the salt from the deck to prevent erosion, and cupped his hands around his mouth as he called up to the quarter deck. "Cap'n!"

Despite having the loudest voice on the crew - and proud of it - the wind still managed to carry it away. He grunted in frustration before grabbing onto the nearest ratlines and hauling himself up. They whipped around beneath him, cool salt spray piercing into his skin as the wet rope burned even against his calloused palms, but he barely noticed, instead focusing on climbing. Once he reached a decent height her caught a flailing line and swung down, feet landing soundly on the elevated deck. He grinned widely, glancing at a few others who had paused from their work to watch him, eyebrows raised and eyes rolling. _Show off. _He simply smirked in response. _And proud of it._

Not too far from where he had landed, a middle aged man faced away from Austin, hands resting on the gunwale as he watched the battle of the waves below. "Cap'n!" Austin called out again, though not as loudly, and the man turned. Austin straightened, though his smile remained in his eyes, and approached the man respectfully. "She's a bit slippery, sir, but she'll hold." Of course she would. The _Scarlette_ hadn't been been defeated by a storm yet. She certainly wouldn't be overcome by a little rain.

Captain Cyril's dark eyes remained hard, face impassive, but he nodded in approval and said, "Very good."

Austin hesitated, knowing he had just been dismissed. His curiosity got the best of him. "Sir?"

"Aye?" Cyril turned and raised an eyebrow. Austin resisted the urge to shrink away.

"Are - are we going after another ship, Cap'n? Should we prepare the guns?"

No change in expression. "No. We'll be raiding a town tonight."

Austin couldn't hide his initial surprise, and then dark excitement. His lips curled upward. "A town, sir? Where?"

"St. Lucia."

"Aye?" Austin's grin turned wolfish. "Somethin' catch your eye there, Cap'n?"

Finally, a hint of a smile on the older man's face. "Aye. You could say that."


	2. Lullaby

(Note: Thank you so much for the reviews, guys. You're all so sweet, and I really appreciate them! I'm sorry if the first chapter was a little slow for a swashbuckling tale - things will start picking up in this next one.)

She had been right about the storm. It hit at sunset, and had, in fact, been the reason her father had summoned her back home, worried she wouldn't be able to find her way home otherwise.

"I would have been perfectly fine at Trish's house," Ally had said with a smile, glancing out the window at the fast approaching clouds.

"I was worried," he had replied, smiling affectionately. "I don't know what I would do if anything ever happened to you."

As it happened, he was right to be worried. The storm was the worst they had experienced in the last year, slamming into St. Lucia full force and refusing to relent for hours. Lightning slashed across the inky heavens, cracking like a fiery whip, while the wind howled its discontent and persisted against the walls of the old manor. Outside the trees leaned, their leaves straining and occasionally tearing off completely to be stolen away across the waves. And the sea - oh, the sea - was something to behold. Ally might have risked facing the violent downpour just to get a closer look at it, in all its raging glory, if her father wasn't so concerned. Even from the large window in the sitting room she could see the angry pulse of the water, spitting and foaming before slamming onto the shores. It rose and fell like a living, breathing being, and the sight of it alone was enough to entrance Ally until the servants put out the candles and her father announced that it was time for them both to retire so they would be ready for Trish's wedding the following day. Surely, he said, the storm would be gone by then. Tempests such as that never lasted for more than a night.

The storm kept Ally awake, though. She tossed and turned under silky sheets for what felt like ages, staring first at the ceiling and then at her window, much smaller than the one in the sitting room, trying to adjust to seeing only darkness rather than the stars. Eventually she rose, lighting a candle and making her way over to her grand dresser. Unlike Trish's, the top was completely bare, with no expensive jewelry or other trinkets. In the large mirror resting on top of it she was startled by her own ghostly reflection. For a moment she and the mirror-girl stared at each other, pale and wide eyed, before Ally's face spread into a small smile and she shook her head at her own jumpiness. Yanking open the top left drawer (it had always been sticky, ever since she was little), she drew out a ordinary looking box that was so small it fit into the palm of her hand. She ran her thumb over the lid, feeling the familiar carving of a rose entwined around a music note, before gently flipping the top open. Inside were a few sheets of paper folded into tiny squares to fit, but she was more focused on the pretty but almost eerie tune that began to play, quiet and mesmerizing as always. Her father had given it to her just after her mother had died. It was her most prized possession, more valuable to her than the contents of even the finest trousseau. She hummed the notes aloud for a moment before gently closing it and slipping it into the pocket of her robe.

It was late. Confident that none of the servants were still awake, she slipped through her bedroom door and down the staircase, guided by warm glow of the candle and the occasional flash of lightning that whitewashed the house. The piano stood almost menacingly in the corner of the sitting room, but when she sat down on the bench it felt just like home. Her fingers spread out over the keys just as more thunder rolled over St. Lucia, so loud it made the house seem to rattle. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and began to play, imitating her music box's haunting melody as the storm raged on around her.

Music was her escape. It comforted her, empowered her, flowed through her like a gentle wave and carried her off to a place that was entirely hers to invent and control.

But it made her vulnerable, too, and that vulnerability would be the thing to change her life that night.

_(Refinement is for the proper, not for the free.)_

"A _girl?_" Austin stared at Dez in disbelief. The lanky red-head shrugged, glancing out the porthole at the angry seas. "Cyril expects us to risk our necks in that weather for some common _wench?_"

"_Cap'n_ Cyril," the taller boy reminded him cheerfully, turning back toward him. "And I doubt she's just a common wench, if he wants her so badly. She's probably worth a fortune."

"So a _spoiled_ wench," Austin rolled his eyes. "Even worse."

Dez clapped him on the shoulder. "Cheer up, Austin. You might actually enjoy myself."

"Enjoy myself?" Austin laughed bitterly. "Dragging some brat through a storm like this while everyone else sits cozy on ship?"

Unfazed by his friend's negativity, Dez grinned widely. "Exactly! You're always looking for trouble anyway."

Austin half-smiled despite himself. "Not_ this_ kind of trouble."

Rowing to shore in that weather would have seemed impossible to even the most experienced sailor. As it was, Austin and Dez just barely made it, Dez rowing while Austin tried to shout orders over the screams of the wind and rumbling thunder. The sea battled them every inch of the way, soaking the bottom of their little boat and tossing them until even Austin felt a little sick despite the fact that he lived on sea. The shore was a relief, the two leaping out and dragging the boat up to where the waves couldn't reach it and consequentially getting soaked in the process. Even in the darkness and the rain, though, Austin could make out the grin Dez flashed in his direction. He was actually _enjoying_ himself. Austin remained in a foul mood, glaring at the ship. It was a shadow on the water, barely noticeable except for when lightning flashed and illuminated the silhouette for a single instant. It was certain that it was getting tossed around on the waves, but Austin would much rather have been there than on St. Lucia preparing to kidnap some girl.

Even in the dark, it was hard to miss the house the captain had described. Without a doubt one of largest homes on the island, it loomed over them. Austin swore softly. Not only would he have to somehow get the girl out without waking any servants, but he'd also have to lead her through a maze of bedrooms and hallways. Swiping at the fringe of wet hair hanging in his eyes in frustration, he jerked his chin at Dez, who quickly set to work picking the lock.

They moved quickly through the house, up the stairs to where Austin assumed the bedrooms would be. As he had suspected, there was a long line of doors they would have to look behind. He heaved a great sigh but gestured at Dez to begin, silently peering into each room. After a few doors Austin was startled to find one that was slightly ajar. Pushing slowly into the room, he frowned when a flash of lightning illuminated the empty bed. Across the room, a dresser drawer was open. He warily made his way over, rummaging through as quietly as he could. Instead of the jewels and frills he would have expected, he found a peculiar range of items. A coin that looked like it came from another country, a beautiful watercolor on plain parchment, a small glass trinket. The only piece of jewelry he found was plain, a single silver chain with a small pendant he couldn't make out in the darkness.

"_Austin!_" Dez's hiss made him jump, and he hurriedly stuffed the necklace in his pocket before meeting his friend in the doorway.

"What is it?"

"Listen."

Austin strained his ears. He heard music, a slow and beautiful melody, drifting up from the lower level. "That's got to be her," he whispered, and Dez nodded, looking almost excited.

They followed the sound to a ledge that hung over what looked like a sitting room, with a staircase off to the left. He spotted her immediately, looking like a ghost in her white robe. Her head bobbed and nodded, swaying in time with the song, slender fingers spread out over the keys. Austin nodded at Dez, who returned his gaze in understanding and slowly began to make his way down the staircase, the sound of the storm drowning out his footsteps. Austin remained above, muscles tense in anticipation as the taller boy crept up behind her. They would have to time it just right, or she'd start screaming before they could force her into silence. Dez glanced up at Austin one last time before leaping forward and grabbing her, one hand covering her mouth while the other snaked around her waist and dragged her right off of the piano stool.

The notes ceased abruptly and the girl immediately began to struggle, head whipping back and forth and heels digging into the floor. Austin could just barely hear her screams, muffled by Dez's hand. Taking his cue, he didn't even bother using the stairs, instead swinging over the banister and hitting the floor with only a small pain in his ankles at the impact. The girl, seeming startled by his sudden appearance, fell silent almost immediately and stared at him with wide, panicked eyes as he drew out his sword and swept down into an elegant bow before pressing the tip gently against the pale skin of her throat.

"Alexandra Dawson?" Without bothering to wait for her to nod, he smirked. "I know someone who's just _dying_ to meet you."


	3. Capture

(OOC: Hey guys! Sorry for the wait on this chapter, but I have a perfectly wonderful excuse. I was vacationing on an island you all _might_ have heard of - St. Lucia! It was wonderful to see the place where my story is beginning, and I've returned with lots of muse. Thank you all for your patience and sweet reviews!)

Ally openly stared.

It was improper and unladylike, but she did it anyway, eyes wide. The blond smirked, lazily raising one eyebrow. She hated herself for being afraid, hated, too, how obvious it was. She tried to narrow her eyes at him, but she was shaking too hard to really look menacing, and he openly laughed at her before grinning wickedly. "Bloody wench."

His words struck her sharply. No one - _no one_ - insulted her. She was Alexandra Dawson. She was rich, a proper lady, heiress to her father's fortune. Anger sparked in her chest, spurring her to sink her teeth into the warm and clamped over her mouth until she tasted blood. Her captor cried out, yanking himself away. Ally jerked to the side, savoring sweet freedom.

It was short lived. Without even looking alarmed, the blond reacted immediately. In one fluid moment he lunged toward her, an arm wrapping around her waist and pinned her arms to her sides as her back pressed against his chest. His other hand held the blade so close to her throat that she didn't dare swallow, much less make another escape attempt. He leaned his head over her shoulder, dipping down as if to whisper a secret, and she could practically feel his grin. "Slippery, aren't you, princess?" The other had come into view, tall and lanky, clutching his hand and actually having the nerve to look _offended_. The blond leaned even closer. "If I were you, though, I wouldn't try that again." His sword pressed into her skin until she felt a sharp pinch and then a small rivulet of blood.

She'd heard of pirates, of course, from the wary sailors and merchants in the area. Vile, bloodthirsty, wild men. She'd heard stories of what they did to defenseless ships... and worse, defenseless women.

But why her and not her town? Or a _pretty_ girl, like Felicity Brooker, with her wide gray eyes, copper curls, and the perfect spread of freckles on her cheekbones? Not that she would wish the circumstance on Felicity, of course, or anyone for that matter.

"W-w-why?" she choked out, half terrified that her life would spill through the cut if it became any deeper. "Why m-me?"

A pause. "We aren't going to hurt you, if that's what you're so afraid of, princess," the blonde said. "Not if you cooperate."

"And if I scream?"

The blond laughed, completely at ease despite the situation. "Fancy trouble, do you?" his voice was cheerful, irritating her. "I suppose the sword at your throat isn't enough of a threat?"

Ally quickly made the decision not to scream. But what, then? Fight again? Try to flee when she saw an opening? Why did they even want her in the first place? She'd asked, but they hadn't seemed very keen on telling her. Perhaps they meant to hold her hostage as they raided her father's home. But why only two for a job like that? Confused and frustrated, she fell into a stubborn silence that the blond immediate,_ infuriatingly_, interpreted as surrender.

"Right, then," he said. "Dez here will be carrying you down to shore, if you don't mind."

The tall one, Dez, looked utterly horrified. "_Me?_" he yelped. "Carry that little piranha?"

As the two began a hushed argument, Ally recognized her window of opportunity closing. They were planning on taking her aboard an actually ship, and once they did, there would be no escaping. She'd be lucky to get off again_ alive_, much less untouched. Pirates were filthy, merciless creatures.

A crack of lightning snapped her out of her thoughts and illuminated Dez's smug expression. The blond sounded irritated when he spoke. "Beg your pardon, princess, but - "

"_Ally_," she interrupted without even thinking.

"Ally," he repeated, shifting quickly from annoyed to amused. "_I'll_ be carrying you down, not that it'll make any difference to you."

Ally frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I truly am sorry about this."

The blade disappeared from her throat, but before she could even feel relief there was an explosion of pain in the back of her head and her world slipped into darkness.

_(The horrible are often not seen as such by their own kind.)_

She was so light.

Austin had been surprised when he first caught her after she had slumped unconscious - the girl was thin, but she weighed so little her bones might've been hollow, like a bird's. Gradually, though, that surprise faded into gratefulness as he navigated St. Lucia's steep slopes with her slung over his shoulder. The storm had finally relented, an abrupt change of weather that he had grown used to after living in the area for so many years, but the ground remained slick and difficult to navigate. He just hoped the sea's rage had disappeared along with the storm.

On a particularly treacherous hill Austin glanced at Des. The lanky boy was still cradling his hand, not nearly as alert as he probably should have been, but her would manage. Not for the first time since they had left the manor, Austin marveled at the girl's spirit and quick thinking. Not quick enough for _him_, of course, and distracting Dez was hardly a huge feat, but he was still impressed. It had been clever.

For a spoiled lass like her, anyway.

When they finally did reach the beach, Austin breathed a sigh of relief - somehow, miraculously, their boat was still there. The water still pulsed and thrummed, but the frenzied hurricane heartbeat was gone, replaced by a calm aftermath. He grinned at the silhouette of the ship, its warm lights shimmering upon the water. _Home, sweet home._

Dumping Ally unceremoniously into the boat, he caught a quick glimpse of the rising lump on the back of her head and inwardly cringed, feeling a quick stab of guilt. Completely necessary, of course, but he still felt bad for the killer headache she would no doubt have when she woke up.

"Wait!" Dez hissed as Austin prepared to clamber into the boat. The taller boy was staring at Ally's limp form suspiciously. "Look. There's something in her pocket." He paused, then looked suddenly alarmed. "It's a weapon!"

"Dez," Austin rolled his eyes, "if she had a weapon, she would have used it by now."

Still, he curiously reached into her pocket and pulled out the object in question. It was a small box, scarcely decorated, seeming far too plain for a young lady of her status. His thumb brushed over the carved design on top, and he frowned.

She stirred. Starting, Austin fumbled with the box for a moment before shoving it back into her pocket guiltily. She didn't move any further, though, and he tried to casually glance back at Dez, failing spectacularly. "Not a weapon," he reassured him.

Des frowned slightly. "Why does she have a jewelry box in her robe pocket?"

Austin shook his head. "I don't think it was a jewelry box. It wasn't heavy enough." He paused, glancing over the water. "We should get going. Cyril - "

"_Cap'n_ Cyril," Dez corrected him.

" - will be expecting us," Austin finished, rolling his eyes and leaping into the boat. Almost immediately, he felt himself relax. He only ever felt at home on the water. Dez shoved them off the shore and jumped in at the last moment, grabbing an oar just in time. Navigation over the waves was still tricky, but it was nothing compared to what they'd done to get to the island during the storm. The trip back to the boat was relatively short and uneventful, although Austin noticed the box slipping from Ally's pocket and, for some reason, felt obliged to grab it and tuck it into his own to keep it safe.

When they arrived at the ship, he was surprised to hear a commotion up above. They were quickly helped aboard, Austin clutching Ally to his side, and holding her in his arms once he felt his feet safely on the deck, frowning as crew members scurried to start moving the _Scarlette_ away from St. Lucia. A lone figure remained still, watching over the work.

"Cap'n!" Austin called, making his way over to where Cyril stood, hands folded calmly behind his back. "What's going on?"

"A Navy ship's been spotted," the man replied, glancing out over the horizon. "Getting ready for another battle, I reckon. We have to move."

Austin's eyes widened slightly. "What about her, though?" he asked, gesturing with his head at the unconscious girl in his arms. Cyril glanced at her in interest for a moment before looking back at the island.

"It's not safe for us to try any kind of bargaining in the midst of another political argument over the island," he said finally. "We'll keep her on the ship for now. Let her father get worried about her - it might be for the best. See if she'll sign our articles and join the crew for a bit. If not, we'll keep her below."

"You expect her to stay quiet, Cap'n?"

Cyril looked incredibly indifferent. "Maybe. If not, we can always throw her overboard."

"And what should I do with her now?" Austin glanced around, trying not to look as stunned and helpless as he felt.

"Put her below, and watch her until she wakes up," Cyril said in a clean, crisp tone. A direct order, then. Austin nodded once.

"Aye, sir," he agreed, and ducked below as the ship began to move, and Ally's home gradually grew smaller in their wake.


	4. Rules

(OOC: So sorry for the delay, guys! D: I really have no excuse except for my own laziness. It's here now, though, and I hope you enjoy it! I've decided that, since I love to let music inspire my writing, I'd start giving each chapter a specific "song" that I feel is appropriate. This chapter's song is "Welcome Home", by Radical Face. Lemme know what you guys thing, I really appreciate the reviews 3)

_Ally was floating._

_The sun beat down upon her pale skin, the expanse of blue sky seeming to go on forever, while the turquoise sea pulsed beneath her with its own gentle heartbeat. Her skirts spread out over the water but didn't drag her down, as they should have. It was, of course, entirely improper for a girl to learn how to swim, which obviously meant that Ally had. She had been very young when a servant took her to a small hidden cove and taught her what it felt like to be buoyant in the water, to move as if weightless, to squint the salt out of her eyes when she surfaced. This wasn't like that, though. Ally wasn't swimming. She was merely drifting, allowing the waves to take her where they would. There was no St. Lucia, no twittering gossips, no imaginary husband. There was only her and the ocean and the sky, and that was perfectly alright with her. She could lay there for eternity, hands spread out over the glittering ultramarine, eyes closed, her breathing calm and -_

Her eyes snapped open suddenly. She wasn't sure what had awakened her, but the second she did she bolted upright and immediately regretted it. She was in some kind of hammock that began to swing dangerously with her sudden movement, and her head exploded in pain so that she yelped and fell back into the netting, eyes squeezed tightly shut until the headache ebbed slightly.

"You awake then, princess?"

She knew that voice. Automatically, Ally frowned. Her eyes drifted open, and through a blurry haze of sleep she could just make out handsome features and a mop of blond hair. She blinked a few times, and his mocking smile came into focus.

Memories didn't flood back and shock her into silence, like she often read about in her books. No, instead, they just clicked into place, and fear gradually grew in her chest, tightening around her lungs like a vice. Her voice was surprisingly steady, though, when she spoke. "Where am I?"

The blond stood from the stood he'd been resting on and leaned into an overly elegant bow. "Alexandra Dawson," he began.

"_Ally_," she corrected him, somehow finding the strength to be annoyed.

"Ally," he repeated, grinning for some reason, "welcome to the _Scarlett_, finest ship in these waters."

Ally stared at him for a long moment. They'd actually caught her, then. They'd taken her from her home, her family, and her beautiful island, just like that. Her heart ached, fingers wrapping around the roughly textured rope of the hammock in an attempt to anchor herself back to reality, though she felt weak and lightheaded. "What..." Her voice broke. She paused, took a deep breath, and tried again. "What do you want with me?"

The blond shrugged. "I told you we weren't going to hurt you, princess," he said, rolling his eyes. "We would have done so already. We just want some ransom from your father."

Despite herself, Ally felt hope surge through her, a welcome relief from the sudden fear and confusion. It was quickly followed by a short stab of guilt. Her father would pay the ransom, of course, no matter how high it was. He was too noble a man and too loving a father to leave her at the hands of ruthless pirates. "Has a message been sent to him yet?" she asked carefully, keeping her voice prim and proper though she was beginning to tremble.

The blond looked suddenly uncomfortable. "Perhaps you should lie down for a bit longer," he suggested, avoiding her gaze. "That was quite a blow to the head that you took."

"At _your_ hands," Ally pointed out, surprised that he had the decency to at least look a little guilty. She was about to continue, to ask him what he was fidgeting about, when she realized she didn't even know his name. She sighed in exasperation. "What is your name, sir? Or shall I just call you rude, arrogant, horribly mannered pirate?"

He laughed. He actually _laughed_. And the worst part was, Ally had to concentrate hard on her frustration and fear in order to prevent the corners of her own lips from tilting upward at the sound. He noticed, smirking slightly. "You could call me that, I suppose," his tone was amused, teasing. "Although I prefer to think of myself more as an adventurer, a sailor, a freedom fighter, than some bloody pirate. Otherwise, you can call me Austin." Another horrible, overly elegant bow. "At your service, princess."

"I'd prefer to know your surname, sir, so that I may call you by it," Ally said tightly.

"Didn't you hear?" Austin grinned. "We rude, arrogant, horribly mannered pirates don't have surnames."

Ally brought one hand up to her eyes, covering them for a moment and taking a deep breath before finally pushing herself up into a sitting position, gritting her teeth as her headache spiked. "_Austin_," she all but spat out, momentarily forgetting all ideas of politeness and propriety, "has word been sent to my father yet? I would like to return home as soon as can possibly be arranged."

Just like before, Austin's good mood seemed to die, replaced by a clumsy kind of caution. "Unfortunately, princess, there's been a bit of a delay on that front."

Ally felt her heart skip a beat, stomach twisting in dread. "What kind of delay?"

"It would seem that a fight is approaching St. Lucia," Austin dropped his gaze, suddenly seeming to find the floorboards to be particularly interesting. "Cap'n Cyril didn't wish to put us in such a risky situation."

"A fight?" Ally knew a good deal more about violence than any girl her age normally would. She'd witnessed much of the conflict between England and France on her island, though her father did much to keep her out of harm's way. Strangely enough, instead of feeling fear at the idea of spending longer than a few days with the pirates, a deep disappointment settled in her chest. She'd been enjoying the peace. She heard herself say, "And what will become of me during this... delay?"

Austin ducked his head. "That's up to you, princess. If you're well enough, Cyril will be wanting to talk to you."

"_Cap'n_ Cyril." The voice startled both of them. In the dim light that filtered down through the hatch, Ally caught sight of the tall, lanky silhouette that had managed to sneak up on them.

"Dez," Ally breathed, and for some reason she smiled. It wasn't quite real, though - more like a ghost of something usually much brighter. The taller boy eyed her warily, keeping his distance.

"Cap'n Cyril will want to be speaking with you right away, Ms. Dawson," Dez said, and Ally couldn't help but appreciate the fact that, unlike Austin, he addressed her by a proper title, "whether you are feeling well or not."

Ally would have much rather stayed in the hammock, closed her eyes, and woken up back at home, safe under her covers where she belonged. It was impossible. She felt the sudden urge to cry, so overwhleming that she practically choked on her next words. "I'm perfectly well. I'll see him."

_(The code of the lawless is often obeyed more than that of the proper.)_

Austin had to give it to her - she wasn't weak. He felt more than a little guilty as she cringed when she stood, reaching up to touch where he'd struck a blow on her head. She'd been unconscious for the majority of the day, so she wasn't greeted with the intense light of day when she climbed up onto the deck, but even the glow of the sunset seemed to make her squint. She was disoriented, confused, and no doubt terrified. Austin couldn't blame her. He'd been just the same, years ago. Of course, he'd been a wisp of a boy back then. Things had changed.

Most of the crew didn't even spare the poor girl a glance, but that suited Austin just fine. He knew Cyril was going to place him in charge of babysitting her if it came down to it, and she was pretty enough to draw the attention of some of the more unsavory members aboard the ship. A few of them finally looked up when their shadows passed over them, and their gazes lingered. Austin watched Ally's cheeks heat up in embarrassment, hands desperately smoothing out her crumpled nightgown. It didn't help any. The stares continued.

Cyril stood apart from the working crew, facing them with narrowed eyes. He had a familiar book in his hand. Ally froze suddenly, just a few paces away. Austin nudged her forward again, but she remained rooted to the spot, refusing to move. He pressed his hand firmly against her back, intending to shove her, but stopped when he felt her trembling. "Cap'n!" he called. It was completely disrespectful, but if Cyril had noticed, he showed no sign of offense, easily closing the gap between them in a few strides. Dez lingered back, watching curiously.

"Alexandra Dawson?" he asked.

Ally nodded mutely.

"She prefers to be called Ally, Cap'n," Austin offered.

Cyril didn't seem to care what she preferred.

"Alexandra Dawson," he repeated. "It would seem you've become my... _unexpected _cargo. I apologize for the inconvenience."

Austin had seen this side of Cyril only a few times before. Diplomatic, polite, proper. The captain slipped into the role with surprising ease, to the point of almost seeming friendly. Of course, beneath the facade there always lingered an icy core.

Ally, seeming to have finally regained her senses, dipped down into a trembling curtsy. The orange glow of the setting sun reflected off of her wide eyes. "Some things can't be helped." Her voice quivered slightly, as if she was finally being hit with the reality of the situation.

"I'm told you're a strange lass of many talents, Ms. Dawson," Cyril said, slowly beginning to circle her. Instead of moving away, as he should have, Austin felt himself instinctively stepping closer. Dez noticed, his eyes growing suddenly round, but Cyril didn't seem to care. "Very intelligent, for a young woman."

He paused, waiting for conformation. Austin felt Ally's uncertainty, and he nudged her gently. Taking the hint, she replied, "... I suppose I am."

"Perhaps you would be willing to assist us with your vast knowledge," Cyril proposed, circling back around to the front and turning sharply, as if suddenly cornering prey, although his voice remained careless.

Ally seemed stunned for a moment, but she quickly recovered, her eyes suddenly flashing. "_Me?_ Help _pirates?_ That's a crime worthy of hanging. You've lost your mind if you think I'll help you."

Cyril shrugged indifferently. "Perhaps. Or perhaps I simply thought you'd appreciate my offer, considering the alternative is spending perhaps more than a month in a cold, damp cell with the mice."

Austin watched Ally stiffen, her face becoming pale. Mice weren't plentiful on the ship - sometimes they'd discover droppings, but usually they found quick ways to dispose of the sources - but Cyril obviously had chosen to leave that part out. "You'll be living the life of a pirate either way, princess," Austin added. "You can either spend it above deck or below."

"I... I need a moment," Ally said carefully. "To think."

"Lass," Cyril took a short step forward, "I'm afraid you don't have a moment. Either work with us or get thrown out of our way. The choice is yours."

"But... you're _killers_," Ally whispered. "The most rotten of the rotten, the cruelest creatures the sea has ever known."

Austin couldn't help it - he grinned. Though his indifferent expression didn't change, Cyril's voice was amused when he answered. "Ms. Dawson, I'm afraid you've been reading to many stories written by ignorant men. I'm sure those soldiers tearing apart your home right now have spilled much more blood than we have, and yet they are named heroes in your pretty little books."

"That's different," Ally said stubbornly. "They're fighting for something."

"So are we, lass," Cyril said. "Only difference is that we're fighting for freedom. They're just fighting for land."

Ally's eyebrows tugged together. She seemed to glare at the deck beneath her feet for a moment before looking up. "Whose rules will I obey if I agree?"

Cyril opened the book in his hands. "These are the ships articles. Feel free to read them over. Should you choose to join us, these words become your new law."

Austin knew the articles well. He had seen many men punished for disobeying them, most often set adrift in the ocean to face a terrible end. Cyril was a fair captain, but his consequences for breaking the rules of the articles were merciless and absolute.

Ally's eyebrows rose higher and higher the farther she read. Finally, she looked up, seeming to have a new respect. "These seem almost... fair."

"Aye," Austin agreed. "What did you expect, princess? All murder and vengeance from us bloodthirsty pirates?"

Ally frowned. "This last line says I'm bound for life."

Cyril shrugged. "We can bend the rules for a lass worth as much money as you."

She sucked in a deep breath, closed her eyes for a moment, and then sighed. "I'll do it."

Finally, Cyril grinned his crooked pen. Dez offered her a pen, and, in neat, elegant handwriting, she signed her name on the next page.

"Welcome aboard, Ms. Dawson," Cyril nodded once, and then jerked his head in Austin's direction. "You'll be in his care until you get your sea legs."

It was a dismissal. Austin led Ally away, back below decks. "You can't work in those clothes," he commented. Ally remained silent. Tugging a chest from a corner, he dug around until he found an old shirt and trousers that looked like they'd fit her. He held them out for her to see. "How are these?"

He was just being polite in offering her a choice - they had nothing else. She nodded without really looking at them, taking them and hugging them close to her chest.

"I'll leave you then alone, then," Austin said, heading toward the stairs. "Come up when you're finished."

Just as he had reached the third step, he glanced back one last time.

Ally remained where she had been, crying, lips moving in silent prayer.


	5. Friendship

(OOC: Two chapters in one weekend! I'm a little exhausted, but also pretty proud. I didn't know I had it in me! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, and I love the reviews, so please keep them coming! The song for this chapter is "Breathe Me", by Sia, as I imagine it is how Ally is feeling.)

The white cotton shirt was somewhat clean and fit fine, but the trousers were too large. Like a ghost, she drifted over to the chest Austin had been digging through before and began to search through the clothing. He'd given her the smallest pair. However, there were a few spare weapons in the chest as well, among them a knife. The sharpest thing she'd ever been allowed to hold was an ordinary kitchen knife. This was far more lethal, and just holding it made her nervous. It made her feel like one of them, even though it couldn't have been more obvious that she wasn't.

She used it to carefully slice off a few inches of length of the trousers and cut holes around the waist, through which she strung some spare rope she'd found in a corner. By the time she'd finished, staring at her cracked reflection in a grime covered mirror shoved against one wall, she felt distinctly under-dressed. Her hands lingered near her waist, feeling the flesh through her shirt. No stays. She'd accidentally cut the trousers just a bit too short, and her ankles were showing without any stockings or shoes to hide them. Despite the fact that she enjoyed finally being able to breath properly, she longed for some sort of normalcy aboard the ship that she could cling to. There she was, hair loose and tangled, dressed like a man, about to perform the duties of a pirate. She doubted even Trish would recognize her.

_Trish._ Ally felt a stab of sorrow in her chest. Had her friend's wedding been postponed as a result of the approaching battled and the kidnapping of her best friend? Or was she right at that moment saying her vows in her scarlet dress and gold necklace, oblivious to Ally's absence? No. Ally was sure she was at home, mourning her. There had been no word sent to her father, and no one else had seen the pirates that night. To the people of St. Lucia, it would seem like Ally had disappeared without a trace.

She'd been staring at herself for a good five minutes before Austin came bounding down the stares. "What on Earth is taking you so - " He stopped at the bottom, his eyebrows rising. Ally blushed under his gaze, crossing her arms over her chest and wishing she could feel as comfortable as he did in one layer of clothing. "Impressive, princess. You almost look like a proper sailor."

Ally glared at him. "It's entirely improper for you to barge in on me like this. What if I had still been changing?"

Austin shrugged. "It would have been unlucky. You would have gotten over it. When you live together on a ship this size for as long as I have, you learn that people figure out how to get along with each other and forgive. It almost makes you wish the world could be the same way, doesn't it, princess?"

Ally frowned. "Sir, I would much prefer it if you would call me Ms. Dawson."

Austin laughed, making his way over to her. "Would you really?" he asked, and the mocking tone of his voice immediately made Ally feel inferior. She tried to stand her ground, but it was difficult to do when he was a good head taller than her. "Ally, you're crew now. We don't call each other Sir or Ma'am. We talk like normal people. Here, like this." He stuck out his hand for her to take, as if she were an equal man rather than a woman of much higher status. "I'm Austin."

Ally eyed his hand warily. He was a pirate, and good one, at that. And yet, he'd stood by her when Cyril had all but forced her onto his crew. He'd agreed to look after her until she could look after herself. Granted, he was practically to blame for the entire mess in the first place, but he seemed to accept responsibility for everything with a sense of nobility and a hint of guilt. Not to mention, what he had said before was true. It would be difficult to not get along with someone when she was stuck on a boat for at least a month with them. He seemed friendly enough. Perhaps, if only for a little while, she could pretend that the lot of them weren't pirates, and that she hadn't agreed to join them. She figured she had nothing to gain by making an enemy of them.

Besides, she'd always wanted an adventure, hadn't she? Just like in her books.

She carefully took his hand, and he shook it once, grinning. Almost timidly, she met his bright gaze.

"I'm Ally."

_(The proper live their lives. The wicked earn theirs.)_

He'd admit to himself if not aloud - he enjoyed being able to boss the poor girl around. It was less about her and more about who she was, a proper girl from society. To say the least, it was almost amusing watching her on her hands and knees, scrubbing the deck, or sweating beneath the endless sun repairing a sail.

She didn't complain, though, which should have surprised him but didn't. Ally was a spoiled brat who had probably never worked a day in her life, and yet he noticed other traits in her beyond the amount of gold tied to her name. She was brave when she needed to be, strong in the face of danger even if she allowed herself tears in private, rebellious in her own small ways, and had a vivid imagination. More than once he'd had to leap down from his place atop a barrel where he was watching her to snap her out of her thoughts, at which point she'd smile sheepishly and continue working. Halfway through the day, though, he'd had to give up watching her when Dez approached him with an air of purpose about him.

"How's the little piranha faring?" he asked, watching the needle in Ally's hands flash expertly through the delicate sail. Work seemed to help her forget her situation - her face was calm, and she looked less tense.

Austin punched Dez lightly on the arm. "Let it go, Dez. She was just trying to escape. She's a clever lass."

"Aye?" Dez raised his eyebrows. "I never thought I'd hear you compliment her. In fact, that last thing I heard you call her was a 'bloody wench'."

Austin rolled his eyes. "At least I'm not still naming her after a fish." Dez opened his mouth for a quick retort, but Austin continued quickly before he could. "Did you have a reason for having come over here, Dez?"

Dez snapped his mouth shut, then opened it again. "Cap'n Cyril wishes to speak with you."

Austin frowned. Cyril rarely had a private word with any of them - if he wanted to humiliate them or congratulate them, he did publicly. He shifted uncertainly before sighing and jerking his head in Ally's direction. "Keep an eye on her." The crew was working, as usual, but he didn't miss the occasional lingering gaze. Not all of them were rotten, of course, but there were always a few bad seeds aboard. Some had the best intentions, others the worst. Austin liked to think himself neutral in the entire situation.

He found Cyril standing at the bow of the ship, separating himself from the buzz of activity aboard. Austin approached as respectfully as possibly, uncharacteristically anxious. "Cap'n," he said, nodding once. Cyril turned around and acknowledged him without a word. When he remained silent, Austin went on, uncertain. "You wished to see me...?"

"I had Dez look through her nightgown," Cyril said, glancing back over the waves. "He said he found nothing of value. I'll confess, this is not as I was expecting." A pause. "You said you searched her bedroom. Did you find anything that seemed peculiar to you?"

"Lots of things," Austin admitted. "She's an unusual lass, that's for certain. No diamonds or lace. All strange items, like maps and foreign coins." He left out the details about the necklace and the strange box, both of which he'd hidden beneath a loose plank that no one else - not even Dez - knew existed below decks. He'd decided to investigate them himself later on.

"I see," Cyril frowned, his hands folding behind his back. His harsh features otherwise remained impassive, though. After a moment he turned, his eyes burning into Austin's. "She's a pretty lass, isn't she?"

Startled, Austin nodded. "Aye, sir." Shocked by his own honesty, he stumbled on. "I, er, I mean - I suppose so."

Cyril nodded. "You suppose," he murmured, seeming slightly distant, and then glanced over at where she was sitting, repairing the sail. "That's why I'm worried about her. I'm trusting you'll keep an eye on her? Protect her if she needs it?"

"Of course, Cap'n," Austin said, thoroughly confused.

"But don't be soft," Cyril warned. "That lass needs to be toughened up some if she's to be crew. She's not a wee maid good for nothing but sewing. Work her hard."

Austin nodded. Cyril rarely took such interest in new members of the crew, but he wasn't about to question him now. "Aye," he nodded, trying not to let his confusion show through.

There was a long pause that Austin almost mistook for a dismissal, but Cyril stopped him. "Wait."

Austin froze, wondering what more the Captain could possibly have to say. He wore his usual mask, but his gaze was intense. "What I am about to tell you, lad, is not to be question nor shared, _especially_ with the princess, understand?"

Thrown off guard, Austin nodded quickly.

"Understand I have a reason for doing all of this, though, once again, it is not to be questioned." Without waiting for a reply, Cyril turned away, once again looking out over the water, so that Austin had to strain to hear his next words. "There was no impending battle at St. Lucia this morning, lad. None at all."


	6. Courting

((OOC: Fluffy chapter ^^ I hope you guys like it. Reviews are appreciated, as usual, and the ones you guys have left are so sweet and awesome and you all are awesome. This chapter's song is Keep Your Head Up, by Ben Howard, as covered by Gabrielle Aplin. Don't ask why, because I don't really know xD)

Ally couldn't help but notice a shift in Austin after he returned from his meeting with the Captain. She'd watched them as discreetly as she could with Dez watching her like a hawk (she wasn't sure when he'd get over the incident that had occurred the night before - he kept cradling his hand whenever she looked directly at him), and she hadn't missed the glances in her direction. She wasn't a simpleton, despite what everyone on board seemed to think. Whatever they'd been discussing, it had at least in part had something to do with her.

The change in Austin wasn't obvious. He was still his quick-thinking, arrogant, witty self, teasing her from his relaxed position in the rigging or atop a crate. She tried to take his mocking words in stride, but coupled with the unbearable work beneath the scorching sun, it made her irritable. Being a pirate wasn't easy. Even just scrubbing the decks was a difficult process that made her shoulders and neck cramp. Repairing sails wasn't any better. The fabric was tougher than she was used to, and it seemed to take ages just to stitch a few inches. And all the while, Austin was there, doing absolutely nothing, making smart remarks.

Beneath his grin, though, something was off about him. He seemed hesitant, almost guilty. She tried to ignore it, focusing on her work. After all, what right did she have to ask him about it? She'd only met him the night before before. She was a nobody to him, a girl that just happened to be worth a lot of money, one that he had to babysit.

As she was scrubbing the deck for the third time that afternoon, sweat trickling down the back of her neck while a carousal of unladylike thoughts spun through her head, when a shadow fell over her. Blowing a strand of hair out of her face, she frowned and squinted at the silhouette. "What do you want now, Austin? I thought I'd already - "

As the figure came into focus, though, she realized it wasn't Austin. In fact, this person, though perhaps the same age, didn't look anything like Austin - he had long, dark brown hair that nearly covered his curious blue eyes, and his skin was well tanned. "Oh," she said, blushing deeply. "I'm so sorry. I thought - I, um, I mean, I didn't realize..."

She trailed off, scrambling for something to say. Up until then, the crew had hardly acknowledged her existence. She was a nothing, a nobody, a spoiled little lass, or, as Austin had put it, a "bloody wench" that wasn't worth their time. Her eyes darted behind the boy, spotting Austin fixing something up in the rigging. Dez was nowhere to be seen. Austin glanced in her direction, and understanding dawned on her quickly. "You're here to watch me?"

"Aye," he nodded once, quickly, looking uncertain. "My name's Dallas. I, um... I suppose, as a proper lady, you wouldn't be interested in a handshake?"

Ally smiled. At least someone on board was genuinely concerned about her status. Stretching her cramped, aching muscles and climbing to her feet, she dipped into a somewhat joking curtsy, pulling out the folds of an imaginary dress, before sticking her hand out the way she'd seen men do with her father. "Ally," she replied, blushing a little when he took her hand in his warm one and shook it once.

"Ally," he repeated, smiling. "Unusual name, for a lass like you."

Not spoiled lass, like any other pirate would have said. _A lass like you._ "Ally isn't my first name," she explained. "My full name is Alexandra. Well, not just Alexandra. Alexandra Dawson. Unless you think a full name includes my middle name. Then it's Alexandra Elizabeth Dawson. A mouthful, I know, but I don't really have any choice in my own name, and - "

"Oi! Princess!" It was Austin, making his way over to them. She hadn't noticed him lower himself from the rigging. Crossing his arms over his chest, he raised his eyebrows at the pair. "Shouldn't you be working? And Dallas, I thought I told you not to get distracted."

Dallas blinked as if suddenly remembering those instructions. "Right. Sorry. I was just - "

"Just demonstrating a good reason for Cyril to throw you overboard himself," Austin finished for him. "There's a pulley that needs fixing. Think you can handle it?"

Dallas nodded. "Aye." He glanced at Ally one last time before making his way toward the group Austin had been working with earlier.

"Don't look so downcast," Austin said with a grin once he was out of earshot, and Ally blushed. "I was saving you. From what I could tell, you were floundering something awful."

"I was not!" Ally protested. "We were just talking."

"I'm all for a little courting," Austin smirked when Ally's blush deepened. "Not enough drama aboard, if you ask me, and it gets a bit boring after the while. Usually, the only maids we see are the ones in port. But you've got to do it right, or else it's no fun at all."

"_Courting?_" Ally sputtered. "It wasn't - I mean, he didn't - we were absolutely _not_ courting. I doubt you know the first thing about such a matter."

Austin's eyebrows shot up. "Not very kind, are you? I know enough to recognize your rambling as a sorry attempt at it."

"It wasn't an attempt at anything!"

"Oh, please. I've done better when I was drunk."

"You've done _better?_" Ally scoffed in disbelief. "What girl would ever fall for a - a - a _pirate_ like you?" Her voice had risen. Funny - she hadn't realized she'd gotten that angry.

"Plenty of girls have fallen for me," Austin said, his smirk suddenly vanishing. "And even if they hadn't, at least I have an excuse. How old are you again, _Ms._ Dawson?"

Ally's jaw dropped. For a moment she gaped at him, speechless, before she felt her entire body heat up in embarrassment. Even on the ship, she couldn't escape the rumors, the endless questioning of the fact that she wasn't yet married. And he hadn't even been discreet about it, bluntly stating the fact as it was - something completely and utterly humiliating, in a way that questioned, w_hat's wrong with you, anyway?_ She felt tears pricking at the back of her eyes as the insult sank in along with all the other events of the day, overwhelming her. Without a word she shoved past him, fleeing below decks before he could see her mutinous tears.

_The proper fear their emotions. The wicked embrace them._

He'd asked Dez to watch Ally.

At first, he'd tried to mentally justify his actions. She'd insulted him first, and he'd only been trying to save her from embarrassing herself. He'd had the best of intentions. Slowly, though, his justifications faded. Intentions weren't what mattered - actions were. And even if she had insulted him, she'd had every right. The emotions of the day were probably building on her, begging for some form of escape. What was his excuse? Why had he gotten so angry about one little thing? If she hadn't said worse things, other people certainly had.

She'd come back up a few minutes later, seeming normal but refusing to talk to him or even acknowledge the fact that they were on the same boat. She talked to Dez a lot, seeming to finally earn his trust, and even laughed a few times.

When night fell and dinner was called, though, Dez seemed to forget about his charge, abandoning her for the food. Austin watched as Ally eyed the line for the meal warily, staying back. When it was his turn, he said a few words to the server and received two bowls of food and two cups of rum. He balanced them as best as her could and approached Ally sheepishly. She frowned at the food, not looking at his face.

"What is it?"

Austin laughed a little. "No one really knows. It's something to put in your stomach, though, so it doesn't really matter. Not to us bloody pirates, anyway."

She accepted the cup and bowl wordlessly, remaining silent when he dropped down next to her. The rest of the crew found their own places, lighting the lanterns and beginning to joke loudly and laugh over their meals. While Ally didn't relax any, Austin couldn't help but notice her eyes soften a little. The stars, the laughter, the rum - they made it worth the risk. Freedom was beautiful, but it wasn't free.

When she took a sip of her rum, she almost choked, spitting it out and coughing loudly, her eyes watering. Austin bit his tongue to keep from laughing. "What were you expecting?" he asked. "Fine wine?"

"W-water," she managed to choke out. "Ladies - d-don't drink - _rum._"

Sighing, Austin stood and requested some water. The server laughed loudly when he saw Ally, still coughing, and handed Austin another cup. He handed it to her, smiling. She downed it in an instant. It seemed to help her recover a bit, still sniffing and blinking tears out of her eyes.

"Thanks," she said after a moment, still refusing to meet his gaze.

Austin heaved a loud sigh, glancing around for Cyril before setting his plate down and wrapping his fingers around her delicate wrist. "Come on. I want to show you something."

She frowned but did as she was told, following him out of the lantern's edge to the side of the ship. The stars stretched endlessly, all the way to the horizon, and the waves glittered beneath the moon. It was a sight he'd seen hundreds of times, but he never tired of it. Ally was entranced, breathing in the scent of salt on the breeze.

"I'm sorry," Austin said after a moment. Startled, Ally finally turned her head to look at him. "I shouldn't have said what I did."

When she remained silent, he reached into his pocket and pulled out her necklace. "This is for you."

"My necklace." She closed her fingers around the chain slowly, not seeming to believe what she was seeing, and then quickly clasped it around her neck. "How...?"

"I found it when we went to your house." He was careful not to mention the fact that he'd been snooping around her drawers. If she realized what he'd done, she showed no sign that she minded.

She didn't say anything, though, and he shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, glancing over his shoulder at the others. "We should - "

Suddenly he felt a pair of arms wrapping a round his neck, Surprised, his arms flew out for a moment before returning the hug cautiously. So much for propriety. "Thank you," she said, pulling away. "For everything. I know it's probably not easy to watch over a spoiled lass like me."

Austin ducked his head, smiling.

"Don't worry about it, Princess," he said. "It's my pleasure."


End file.
